


Defeat(ed) - ESO Writing prompt

by Ash_Pendragon



Series: Elder Scrolls OC's (Obsidian and Vorcarno) [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls: Legends
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Pendragon/pseuds/Ash_Pendragon
Summary: Short story for the ESO writing prompt. A Bosmer assassin attacks Vorcano in his home and makes him question his morality.
Series: Elder Scrolls OC's (Obsidian and Vorcarno) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745170
Kudos: 1





	Defeat(ed) - ESO Writing prompt

He pulled the knife from his chest, dark liquid splattering against the cobbles. The cold of the blade was hardly shocking but did cause him a minor discomfort. It itched more than it hurt. As the dagger clattered to the floor, he relaxed his overtaxed biceps. Vorcarno didn't notice, but he had tensed upon impact. 

Vorcarno chuckled, standing up straight after he stumbled a little. His hollow eyes glared deep into hers, keeping their eyes locked as she desperately tried to scramble away. She broke the enchantment, glancing at the dagger, which he swiftly kicked out of her reach before beginning his attack. The assassin cried out in shock as he surrounded himself in a dark purple mist. Childs play to him, but years of study for anyone else. It was one of his most favoured spells. It instilled such fear, no matter who he faced. The most hardened of warriors would tremble as he circled them, exerting his power and dominance over such fools who attempted to challenge him. 

"You monster!" The Bosmer assassin cried as she gasped for breath, suddenly finding his white fingers entwining around her neck. Vorcarno chuckled at her response, his grip tightening. "People see me as their saviour, their guardian, some even their god. Do you claim that I am a monster? I assist the people who you cast out of your feeble societies. I give them a purpose, a place to call home, and most importantly, a family. Perhaps it's you who are the monsters!" He roared.

The crack of her bones under his hands made him recoil, and drop her lifeless body upon the stones. Her final cry still echoed against the cold walls of the monastery. He hadn't meant to take her life. She was to serve as a warning to the ones he despised. And a gift, displaying his power. Instead, she rested in an unceremonious heap, his crimson blood splattering her face. Shaking his head, Vorcarno lifted the still warm maiden into his arms and carried her throughout his home. The abandoned castle he and his ilk had found, served as a suitable place of residence and allowed a flow of information to echo around the halls each day. Now, silence. His blood-kin were out hunting, leaving him alone. The assassin had chosen a perfect time to strike. 

The cold air around him went unnoticed. He had lost his natural warmth centuries ago. The sky above, surrounded in a thick mist. The castle had a rather large garden, but there was a gated alchemy garden, to which only he had access. It seemed the right thing to do was to take the assassin there. He placed the body upon a stone altar, which he adorned with a few nearby deathbells. His hands shifted through the energy in the air, watching as flames started to consume the Bosmer. The warmth from the fire was unnerving, melting most of the snow around the garden. When all that was left of her was ash, he took one of the empty decorative urns and carefully swept them into it. 

Vorcarno was confused as to why he felt so compelled to respectfully return her. Previous foes had ended up being drained dry by him and his gluttonous blood children. He would task one of his kin to return the urn to the guild of assassins she was sent from, which he learnt from the writ on her corpse. Until they returned, he sat upon a marble bench, the urn next to him, and turned his head up towards the dark sky. He chuckled slightly. In a way, she had completed her task of defeating him. He hadn't shown any form of respect or compassion towards a mortal for thousands of years. They were the ones who cursed him, so why would he? But that young girl had brought something out in him which he hadn't seen for a very long time. Even when he was mortal. 

The feeling of defeat was rare for the Altmer. He prided himself in his combat and magical prowess. Very few times did someone best him, and if so, it was usually through foul play. That's when he realised what was wrong. He never allowed her a chance to fight. Instead, he turned his inner frustrations against the poor thing, as her lungs burned, as she screamed but no noise came out. He was the one who played dirty this time. And for the first time, he admitted that he was defeated.


End file.
